I hope you all brought that wine.

Onward!

Chapter 35

For three weeks, Christine traveled.

Often, she took trains, hopping from one rail to another as she journeyed to the next city on her list. Sometimes, she boarded planes when she needed to travel farther than a few hundred miles. The first time her fake passport with her new name was scanned by customs, she held her breath, but she needn't have worried. Nadir's papers had held up easily, and she'd had no problems passing from country to country.

Copenhagen, Hanover, Amsterdam, Brussels, then a flight to Milan, Italy, closer to Switzerland just in case – these had been her first stops, all without success in drawing Erik out from wherever he had gone.

Shaky at first, she had sung. With Meg's contribution of her research skills, she had chosen various open mics or small venues that might let her sing a song or two before an opening show.

In Copenhagen, she had faced disaster – she felt unprepared and awkward singing in front of a crowd when she had never done such a performance before. At least, not as an adult. She tried to remember what being on stage with her father had been like, the confidence he used to ooze as he got up there and performed with everything he had.

The first song had gone badly. She had chosen something indie-popish, for the sake of picking what she thought the young crowd might be into. However, she was greeted with uncomfortable silence and trickling applause for her efforts. Finally, with one song left to her, she decided to sing an aria from Don Giovanni, one that she and Erik had worked on steadily during her time in Saint-Ursanne.

When she finished the song, she was again met with silence, but this time, she looked out into the crowd. All eyes were fixed on her, their eyes wide, their expressions rapt. More than a few of them were crying. That was how she felt when listening to Erik sing, and here a crowd was looking at her like they couldn't believe what they had just heard.

The eventual applause had been deafening. She'd had to sing three more songs before she promised another performance the next night.

Since then, she had sung with more and more confidence. After a few weeks, she found that people were starting to recognize her. She wasn't sure at all how that was happening until she saw the videos surfacing on YouTube – and shared repeatedly with Meg's rather large base of friends.

Christine didn't care much for the attention, but she could only hope that the buzz she was generating in that small portion of Europe would be enough to get Erik's notice. Then her multiple performances in Milan had resulted in nothing but more videos uploaded and shared across social media, and she grew more and more despondent.

What if all of her efforts were for nothing – and Erik hadn't even heard her?

What if he had heard about her, but decided not to seek her out?

Worst of all, what if he couldn't hear her because something had happened to him?

Nadir tried to assure her that Erik had to be alive. If he had died, Nadir said, the Iranian would eventually find out about it one way or another. Nadir was having tremendous success on his end of the plan, and although he told Christine as much, he refused to give her more details than that.

Selfishly, she was more than a little glad for the vagueness.

His daily messages kept her going, letting her know that he was safe, and that she should keep trying. However, after three weeks of nothing from Erik, Christine was starting to grow weary. Finally, she reached a breaking point. She decided to head to Paris for a bit of a pause in her usual schedule. She desperately needed some time with Meg, time just doing and focusing on nothing.

A few days later, the two of them sat at a café at a secluded table. The normalcy of hanging out with her best friend was a welcome change, however brief it might be.

Meg took a sip of her coffee. "How about popping up to London for this show on Sunday night?"

Christine sighed. "I could since I'm so close." At the look Meg gave her, she scrubbed at her face and stood. "You're right, you're right. I'll send a message right now to Nadir to let him know."

In a few moments, Christine had bought herself a train ticket to London. She decided to go ahead and head out that evening so she could have time to explore the city a bit the next day before the show.

By the time Nadir replied, she was already halfway through the two-and-a-half-hour ride.

Why London? his text read. Not on our list!

Just for one show, she fired back. Relax. I'll be back in Paris by Monday evening. I'm already on my way.

He didn't reply, but she didn't like the annoyed tone in his message. Just before she went to bed in a British hotel room that night, she received another text from him.

Please be careful. Keep your passport and cash card on your person at all times.

She did this anyway, at his insistence when she had begun this singing voyage. However, she didn't point this out. Nadir had been protective ever since seeing her in Uppsala, and she wasn't going to complain about it.

During the day, she explored the city of London. She had been here before over the summer, but she decided to check out any spots she had missed back then.

At 7:00 in the evening, she went to sign up at the open mic at The Stage Door, bundled in the winter coat she had newly purchased. With November halfway over, winter was almost in full swing for most of northwestern Europe. The skies had been overcast all day, glazed over with dark gray clouds that intermittently spit out cold rain.

She signed in for a spot and was recognized by at least one person at the corner pub. They reminded her of the two-song limit but told her she might be allowed more depending on audience reaction. She thanked them and hurried off to grab some dinner before the show began.

Like all of her shows after the first, this one went smoothly. She entranced the audience with her song choices, one an aria and one a pop song that needed a strong voice. When the crowd stretched out the applause for a full two minutes, she got the signal to sing another song, so she chose one dear to her heart.

"Chandelier."

She missed Erik terribly. She would give almost anything to return to that last day in Switzerland, to the moment she told Erik she couldn't marry him. There was no way she would take back her decision, no way she could have given up her mother like that. But maybe she could have better explained from the beginning and fought harder to get him to see the dilemma from her perspective.

"Chandelier" was the first song she had fully sang for Erik, there underneath the Palais Garnier in Paris, deep within his underground home.

Now, as she sang it to fifty hushed, upturned faces, she did so through her tears.

The ovation afterward left her ears ringing.

Once they had settled down and moved onto the next act, she slipped out of the main dining hall to the outside terrace. A steady rain was now falling, but there were heaters on the balcony, and two large tarps covered much of the space. She had forgotten her coat left draped over a chair near the stage, but she only wanted a moment of fresh air.

The view wasn't much. To the side, a mostly empty London street with a few people hurriedly going somewhere on this Sunday night. In front of her, a wide expanse of dark parking lot that bled into an even darker alleyway in the midst of all these tall buildings. She knew from her earlier walk that there were no cut-through streets on this block.

She gazed into that darkness, and as she did, she caught sight of two glowing pinpricks of light.

Eyes. Erik's eyes.

She gave a strangled cry. Before she comprehended what she was doing, a shot of adrenaline hit her system, aiding her as she dashed from the balcony back inside the pub. She raced past the stage and patrons, fleeing toward the stairs.

Someone called her name - her real name, not the stage name Chrissie Day she had been using – but she didn't take heed. She rounded the top of the banister, felt a strong hand grab onto her shoulder at the same time she jerked down the stairs. Her purse slipped from her shoulder and landed somewhere behind her, and her name was called again, but she kept going. She had followed Nadir's warning to keep her passport and cash card on her body, but her hotel keycard was in her purse along with her cash, and oh god, Erik was here.

She dashed out the front door of the pub, the cold rain slapping her face, and ran to the side with the balcony. However, that parking lot was closed off by a privacy gate. She didn't care. Her body was still pumping adrenaline, making her legs shaky and strong at the same time. She grabbed onto the freezing metal bars that formed a small corner at the edge of the gate. Planting one foot on the bars, she hoisted her elbows over the top edge and used gravity to let her body slide over the top.

She spun and landed roughly onto her backside, but she kept going, leaping back to her feet and taking off in the direction of where she had seen Erik. Those glowing eyes were no longer there, and for a moment, she wondered if she had finally lost her mind. But no – he had been there, she had seen him.

Heading off down the alley, she saw that the path became narrower before vanishing into the walls of adjacent buildings that rose at least eight stories above her. She stopped, panting from her sudden exertion, from the enormity of the emotions that washed over her.

She stood there in the near total darkness, the glow of the parking lot dim behind her. The rain pelted her hair and face, quickly dampening her thin long-sleeved shirt.

"I know you're here," she muttered, first to herself. Then she gritted her teeth and said louder, "I know you're here, Erik."

No response from the night. She cupped her hands around her mouth. The noise from the Stage Door was a low roar behind her, and she knew other people might be able to hear her, even if they couldn't see her. Again, she didn't care.

"I know you're here, Erik! I saw you!" She took a breath to shout his name, but a hissing from behind her cut her off.

"Quiet, you stupid girl!"

Oh, that voice she knew so well. Three weeks she had gone without hearing that silky tenor slide over her. Now, she spun around to face him as he emerged from the shadows. Her heart thundered in her chest, but not from nervousness or fear.

The rain masked his footsteps as he came closer. He was dressed in his full regalia. Hat upon his head, cloak about his shoulders, his boots stained with grim, he looked every bit the foreboding Phantom she had first encountered. Rainwater spilled from his cloak, but his wide-brimmed hat protected his mask, which shone bone white in the low beams of a distant streetlight.

"Erik," she whispered.

She was more in love with him than ever.

He walked toward her, his pace brisk, the unmasked portion of his face twisted with what looked like fury. As he approached, not slowing, he bodily forced her back, his chest bumping against her, manhandling her backwards without using his hands until her shoulders met the rough coldness of the concrete building.

A growl emerged from his chest as he slapped two hands on either side of her head, fingers splayed against the wall, trapping her between his arms without touching her. Here, against the side of the building, the rain didn't pelt her quite as hard. Even as he was seeking to intimidate her, he was looking out for her comfort.

His scent enveloped her, the spicy musk that was only him combined with the dampness of too much time spent outside. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face into his chest and breathe him deep.

"Erik," she said again in wonder, staring up at him. "You're alive. You're here."

His amber eyes bore down into hers. "Yes, I am here," he snarled. "You seem more pleased by this than I thought you might be."

She barely heard him. "You're really here. I was so worried! Weeks of nothing, no sign of you, and I had no idea if you were safe or where you were. But you're here." Her gaze roamed over him before alighting back on his face. "And you're alive."

And well. Besides the dirty shoes and wet clothing, he was in fine shape. She had worried he wouldn't take care of himself in her absence, and she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief that he seemed to have moved beyond self-harm when she wasn't around.

She raised a hand and pressed it to his chest, wanting, needing to feel his heartbeat. For a brief second his heart thudded a frantic pace against her palm before he knocked her touch away.

"You may not," he bit out.

"I-I'm sorry. I understand that you're furious with me. You have every right to be." The words caught in her throat, but she rushed to say what she needed to say, everything she had wanted to say before they had parted. "But you didn't give me a chance to explain, to figure anything out. Erik, you tried to rush me when I needed just a moment to think."

"A moment to think!" He shifted his stance, his hands balling into fists as he leaned one forearm against the wall at her head, closing the distance between them. He shoved his face close, close enough she could feel the harsh pant of his breathing hot upon her face.

In less than a second, she could press her lips to his. She wasn't sure at all how he would react, so she pushed aside the urge for he was growling again, towering over her.

"A moment to think, my dear Christine! You had every moment to think, weeks to think about whatever direction we were headed. You cannot stand here and tell me that you had never once considered the possibility of a future between us. You cannot look me in the eyes and say you were truly surprised by my… proposal."

She had been, actually. While she knew he was her future, she'd had no idea that he wanted to go in that direction. Did he even have official documents to be able to legally marry her? Or had he meant in name only? He hadn't given her any time to ask any of these questions, which was at least part of the problem.

She tilted her chin up, not at all intimidated by his looming stance. This was her Erik; she knew more than anything that she had nothing to fear from him. "You're obviously too angry right now to listen to me."

At that, he glared down at her. "If your intention was to draw me out with your voice, you cannot expect that I come to you showing any other emotion."

Yes, she'd expected him to be angry. But his words made her pause. "You figured out what I was doing?"

The sneer on Erik's face was terrible. "My dear Christine, how did Daroga convince you to go on this singing adventure? Was it to lure me out of whatever dark abyss in which I must be hiding? Who set the pattern of the cities you visited – you or him?"

She felt herself start to shake again, this time from her own surprise. At once, she was well aware of just cold she felt, just how much rain had seeped into the tops of her sneakers. And of the confident look on Erik's face.

How had he known she was here?

"W-What are you saying?" she said, pressing herself against the icy stone at her back.

Erik continued his onslaught. "You can't possibly believe Nadir would have sent you on this trek without knowing you would be safe. Without my express consent. Because of course you would never choose to leave well enough alone and go back to Boston!"

Nadir had tried to get her, several times, to return to her previous home, even if only to wait. She was the one who had insisted on being involved somehow.

She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling light-headed. "You… you already knew!"

"Of course," he said, his tone triumphant.

They had tricked her, both of them together. Knowing she would likely never consent to run away, they had formulated a plan on how to make her believe she was helping while keeping her safe. All this time, all these weeks, Erik had been working with Nadir, who had spun her lies to make her think he didn't know where Erik was.

Suddenly, she felt like such a child.

She raised her hands and shoved at his chest, which was only a foot from hers. He didn't budge. "How could you both do this to me?"

"I get my way one way or another, beloved," he said smoothly. "No matter what, I will always keep you safe."

Yes, he would. Her mind spun with this new knowledge, but her heart suddenly felt clear and open. Erik had been following her all this time. And even though they had worked behind her back, both men had done so with all the best intentions. Eventually, she would have to move beyond her feelings of betrayal. For now, though, she wasn't going to let her anger go so easily.

She met his fiery eyes. "So I guess this means you've been killing people right alongside him?"

Oh, he didn't like that. His single exposed eyebrow furrowed, his stance shifting again like he couldn't decide whether or not to touch her. Like he wasn't sure if he could stop himself. He did, fisting his hands again.

"What does it matter if I'm the man you want me to be if I don't have you?"

Her memory fled back to that long-gone conversation with Nadir before she decided to board the cruise ship and fully join Erik's life. Nadir had told her Erik was leaving and going into hiding in order to try to be the man he thought Christine wanted, to be a better man.

But she realized now that Erik was Erik, for whatever that meant, and his past had finally caught up to him. And if she truly wanted to be with him, she had to take him for what he was.

What was it Nadir had said back in Sweden? "The time for hiding is over, Christine. I hope you can understand that, and, in time, forgive me."

And when she had said she'd already forgiven him… When she had said that she was now ready to embrace whatever both men had to do in order to see this conflict through to the end, Nadir had teared up.

Because he knew she wasn't just forgiving him – she was forgiving Erik.

Erik, you are the man I want!

"Erik-" she began, the words on the tip of her tongue.

But he cut her off, all but snarling at her. "Not another word, woman!"

Would he even believe her? She had, after all, turned down his proposal. Erik, I want to marry you! her mind now cried.

The rain swelled, drowning out the pounding of her heart in her ears. Streams of water poured off Erik's hat onto the shoulders of his cloak. He made a noise of distress low in his throat, and then his lips were upon hers, his body a long line of muscle and sharp angles against her. His cold lips moved against hers, pressing hard, desperate for contact.

Despite herself, she fed a moan from her mouth to his, the feel of him against her everything she had wanted these past few weeks. He drank her in, took the opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips, warm and wanting.

So easy to let him take from her. But he believed she had left him, he believed they had parted ways, and this kiss was born of desperation, the stealing of one last moment from her before they supposedly parted ways. Now that she knew the truth, what was the point in continuing the charade of singing across Europe? She could so easily slip through his fingers after today.

And he knew it.

She tried to push him back, but he continued to slant his mouth across hers. Even though her hips unwittingly undulated against his, and one foot braced against the wall so she could press a welcoming knee to his side, her mind screamed that this wasn't right until he knew her own truth.

That she had already accepted him, as is. And would forever.

In a moment of panic, she did the only thing she could think to get him to back off. She bit him, hard.

He jerked back, their lips parting with a wet smack. She hadn't broken the skin, but the corner of his mouth was red, the bottom edge of the thin line of lip quickly starting to swell.

"S-Sorry," she said, reaching out to touch his face, but he moved back even further. "Erik, would you just listen to me?"

"What?" he snapped.

She had to speak louder to be heard over the roar of the downpour. With him no longer enshrouding her with his body, rain quickly began to dampen her arms and pants. Her teeth were chattering, her body starting to shake from the cold.

"Erik, I already knew what Nadir's plan was. I knew he was going after those men. I knew what he was going to do!"

He was back, pressed up against her again, this time gripping her upper arms almost painfully. "Speak!"

"Nadir told me he had exhausted all the ways he could to get those men off your backs, and that he had no choice but to finish it by finishing them. The whole point of this was to get your attention so you would help him!"

He visibly flinched, not loosening his hold. "And you have known all of this?"

"Yes! And I support you in this, Erik. I-I want you to help Nadir so you can come back to me, so that we can finally live our lives together in whatever way we want."

Whatever the response she expected, she was unprepared for him to tuck his face against the crook of her neck, the cold porcelain of his mask a shock to her already frigid skin. She held still, not sure what he was doing, feeling like she was being held over a precipice.

Then a low whine began in his throat.

"You are so good, my lovely, strong Christine," he said into her neck. His words were spoken so softly, squeezed past his despair, that she wouldn't have heard him in the rain if he hadn't been so close. "I love you so much. You are so, so good, so deserving of so much more than all of this. Go home, my dear beloved. Go home!"

He pushed away from her, launching himself a yard away, a sheet of pelting rain between them. One of his arms swept over to indicate himself, and his face was twisted in revulsion.

"This is not the type of man who should have you!" he cried.

And he was gone in a flash of black cloak before she had a chance to recover, dashing into the deep shadows of the alley and vanishing under the cover of rain and darkness.

She fought past her shock to call after him. "No! Erik, come back! Come back!" She tried to follow, but she found only the high walls of the surrounding buildings. She let out a shriek and pounded her fists against the concrete.

After all of that, she had lost him once again.